Sympathy for the Devil
by Lythelia
Summary: When Dean receives a surprise visit from Lucifer, he can't help but feel a bit unsettled. But as their conversation turns from tense to friendly, he starts to notice feelings of sympathy. Oneshot. Pre-Swan Song.


Dean jerked awake from his slumber, noticing the air around him quickly grow cold. Puzzled, he sat upright and much to his surprise, he noticed he was not alone. "Jesus Christ-" he barely managed to stop himself from falling as the realization kicked in: There was an angel in his living room, but not just any angel, it was Lucifer himself. Dean's blood ran cold. "What the hell do you want?"

Lucifer smirked, his arms crossed as he stood in the shadows of the small motel room. He leaned against the wall and the little light there was, the moon barely peeking in through the window, shone over his eyes. Lucifer walked out, revealing himself now that one of the Winchesters had woken up. To his disappointment, it wasn't the one he had wished to speak to, but one couldn't always get what they wanted. He grinned. "First off, not Jesus Christ. I know it's a hard fact to wrap your head around, but we aren't the same."

"Very funny" the hunter groaned against his pillow, slowly bringing his head up as if expecting the other to attack at any moment.

"You know, people usually let their host know before coming around for a visit. I didn't even have time to clean up the place, man." he groaned as he rubbed circles around his eyes. He knew his options were limited, no weapon of his would do any damage to the fallen angel, not even the colt, which was considerable close to him. He let out a breath. It was pointless, wasn't it?

"Well, this isn't a typical visit, now is it Dean?" Lucifer noticed Dean's discomfort and overall fear of his presence. He let a smile adorn his face, for only a moment though, before retreating one step from the hunter. He pulled out a chair and sat down in it backwards with his arms folded over the back. "Nor was it for you. Speaking of that, when is Sammy usually up?"

Dean found that statement a little less than comforting. He shook his head slowly. "You do realize there's no point in you trying to get him, right?"

He propped one knee up, tucking it tightly to his chest, and reached for his blade. "He's not going to say yes to you and we both know that."

The hunter yawned, tired as always. These angels should just learn to fix their own problems, leave them to their own everyday musings.

Vessels or not, they were still humans, free and whatnot.

"Hmm. Detroit." He mused, "Wait until Detroit." Lucifer knew very well that he wasn't going to get Sam to say yes- not yet, that is. To be honest, he wasn't really visiting for the whole vessel ordeal. He was just curious. Though, he was sure Dean wouldn't understand, nor would he tell him. He didn't care what Dean thought, though he might as well tell him he wasn't here to score a vessel.

"I wasn't here for that, though, can't one sit down and have a friendly conversation once and awhile? Just two people, as friends?" he paused "I don't think we're there yet. What do you think Dean?" Lucifer raised his chin from his arms and tilted his head slightly in amusement.

Dean sighed. There he went again with his cryptic ways, the Archangel never was easy to read, nor did Dean understand his reasonings. Perhaps it was just the way these guys were raised. Believing themselves to be high as kings- or gods. Definitely gods.

"Friends, huh?" Dean snorted, this was sure something. Lucifer asking for a short-term truse? That had to be an historically important moment. Better mark that in the calendars. Was he drunk? Wait no, was Lucifer drunk? Dean knew angels could get drunk from hanging around with Cas, but he was pretty damn certain Lucifer was too high and mighty to stoop down to the level of humans. That probably was not the case. Dean shook the thought off. "You know, your way of conversing differs greatly from our's. Just keep things neat and pretty and I'll be good."

Lucifer smirked. He wasn't talking about Dean, he was asking about Sam. Why would he ever sit down to personally talk with Dean? He would never admit this, but Dean reminded him too much of Michael for any real word exchange, he was only spending these minutes with him to wait for the younger one.

"How about I don't take orders from a little mud-monkey?" His tone wasn't too harsh, more of a light phrasing. In all honesty, this whole conversation to him was a joke.

Dean rolled his eyes at that "There you go again. Mud monkey? Oh c'mon man. That hurts." What Lucifer essentially was underneath all that act was indeed, just another scared and confused daddy's boy. Not that he really blamed the guy. It was probably bizarre as fuck for him to go through the entire ordeal, God going: _Here's these things you most love more than me._ Yeah, that did sound weird, even to think about. Wait, was he sympathizing him? Wasting his precious time trying to understand the whole picture behind the other? Trying to find a reason behind his antics? He brushed it off. It was probably due to the fact that he was woken at this ungodly hour. "Yeah, yeah. Ever the rebel. You owe me that, you know. You woke me from my sleep, it's rude. Have some manners."

Lucifer was having trouble understanding the mortal's crude way of speaking. His words didn't flow; they never built up a structure to follow. He didn't really blame this entirely on the man. Humans were built to be incompetent and ignorant. No human language showed the beauty of one's words like Enochian. Lucifer's eyes darted to the other in the room, but without luck, he was still sleeping carelessly. Now Sam, he was something else. He was different from the rest of his kind, but he couldn't put his finger on why. It was probably because the mortal was literally made for the devil, and nothing more. As his thoughts wandered, he completely forgot the older Winchester was there. Without a response, he gazed down at Sam, studying his face. Something was bothering him in his sleep. A nightmare perhaps.

"For one without a heart, you seem to care awfully a lot about certain things." Dean mused out loud, before turning his head enough for his eyes to meet the floor.

"Your Dad for example, and Sammy. Heh, If it wasn't so darn creepy, I'd think it was sweet." He admitted with a chuckle, leaning against his own hand, once again drifting to his own thoughts. It was true, oddly enough. Angels pulled off quite impressive stunts in order to keep their potential vessels safe. When it came to the four Archangels, however, he couldn't help but notice that there was an extra hint of care. They didn't treat their vessels like humans. No, that wasn't the case. But instead, take Michael for example, treated him like a frail statue made out of glass, well, at times that is.

Lucifer snapped his attention back at Dean, anger lingering in his eyes, but behind that, if you looked close enough, there was a hint of denial trying to be pushed back. Lucifer gestured to Sam, though angered, his movements were still smooth. "I could care less about… him. The only reason, and I say this again, _only reason_ I care so much is because I need him as my vessel."

This, however, contradicted his earlier statement of coming with no intent of convincing Sam, that he had just wanted to talk. The Archangel was no different from the humans in the sense that he was still trying to figure out his own emotions. He had no understanding of why he hadn't hated Sam, or why a human could remind him so much of his brother. To him, there should have been no correlation, the two should have been disposable vessels.

Dean sighed and swung his legs back and forth. "So you say."

He once more found himself relaxed. If the angel were to try anything , he wouldn't hesitate to use the ace in his sleeve, even if that meant a certain sacrifice on his part.

"Your eyes tell another tale, man." He chuckled, almost slipping back to his more softer tone, one that he usually used when his brother was dealing with problems of his own. It was strange, in a way. Maybe it was a remnant of Michael in him, to act brotherly towards such a monster as the man, _creature_ , before him. It was bizarre. "You don't need to tell that to me, y'know. Professionalism all the way."

The angel's anger faded some, as if the whole ordeal was just a child's temper tantrum. He had other things on his mind, like why was Dean talking to him like this, like he was one of them? He wasn't, though. He was the devil and to most humans that would cause much uncertainty and fear. It seem that Dean was a little too relaxed, which presumably meant there was something up. He didn't sense their pet angel around, so they didn't have any means to actually do much harm to him. Though, in all honesty, Castiel couldn't either.

"Your rather relaxed." The Devil's voice was quiet and demanding.

"Is there a reason for me not to be?" He shot back, cracking an eye open. "After all, we're just friends conversing about heaven and hell and everything between, no?" His tone was still too soft for his liking. Perhaps he was just too tired to focus on keeping it on the rougher edge. On the other hand, he couldn't give a less of a damn.

He let out a breath and opened his other eye to look at the angel. "I'd advise you try this too, relaxing I mean. Every once and awhile. Must be tense being the big bad of everything."

The devil raised an eyebrow. Big bad of everything? Of course, the human wouldn't understand his motives. "I could try that, but it wouldn't be very constructive for me, now would it?"

Angles were built to do massive amounts of work before they broke down from overload. Lucifer couldn't remember one time he or Michael had relaxed, well, after they were kids of course. Ah, when they were. Those had been some of his best years, enjoying his times in the garden of eden with his older brother, not a worry in the world. Other that trying to please him, of course. But he wouldn't _really_ call that a worry. Not compared to the events following.

Lucifer snapped out of those thoughts. Too bitter-sweet for his liking. He wasn't the sappy type, and those thought weren't constructive either. It would just make it harder to carry out his plans. Imagine him trying to convince Michael not to fight. _Could he do that? Would he listen?_ These thoughts floated through his mind in curiousity. He could stop the fighting couldn't he?

"You know," Dean piped in almost somberly after what seemed like a small eternity. "The more I think about it, the more it hurts my head. Exactly what you'd expect from a monkey like me?"

He stopped for a breather, then continued with his hands in held up in the air. "Michael and you. Brothers. Yet so different. He's the righteous guy, God's best and brightest. Then you, heh. You're at the other end of the spectrum. The bad guy of the story. His Lex Luthor and so forth." Dean sighed. What was he doing, saying these out loud? "How'd that happen? You weren't always like that, right? Butting heads I mean."

Lucifer shook his head, looking down at his feet. "No we weren't."

He let out a breath. "Exact opposite, actually. I was Sam, in a way. You get it?" He refused to say anymore. He didn't really feel like poking at the memories stored away behind a wall, nor did he want to tell the mortal. He was human and didn't deserve to hear his story.

Dean glanced at Lucifer with an amused look on his face "Somewhat. I still don't see you as him. Shy and everything. Were you shy? No way, man. No friggin' way." Despite what he said, it did, however, fit in a way. He could easily picture Michael going around protecting his younger sibling, teaching him the ropes and showing him the world. After all, the two oldest angels existed on their own for a short while as God had kept a few years off before making the rest. That was, at least, Gabriel's version of the story.

Maybe it wasn't too farfetched from the truth. Michael spoke of his brother quite highly, despite what they had gone through. Maybe the two still loved each other. "I don't really get the war then. I mean, I'd never go up against Sammy like that."

Lucifer looked out the window, any excuse not to face the human who was currently interrogating him on his most locked away memories. He had thrown the key out long ago, and the pressure coming from his chest was unbearably painful; without the proper key there was no way to safely extract those memories without him either snapping or falling into another depression, which he quite frankly wasn't ready for either. He sighed. Maybe Dean did understand. He decided to answer Dean's questions by letting him think about the situation in a way he'd understand without him having to go into his life story. "You were so ready too, weren't you. Demon's blood. _Ruby_."

Dean huffed. "In a way I was, in a way I wasn't. In the end, I chose the barrel end of a gun before hurting him, y'know. Selfish, I know." He still was, and always would be more willing to kill himself rather than hurt his own baby brother. During those days he came to accept it. Hell, it was a stationary fact by now. If Sam became a monster, he'd still follow him to the end of time. It was his duty to protect him until his legs gave out and he couldn't breath anymore. It was a promise he made his father the day he carried Sam out of the burning nursery.

"You catch my drift? I was the weak one. Went for an easy option out. You brother on the other hand, he went all out. Turned the ordeal into a war." He paused. "Do you think he regrets it? I.. I do, I just see it. Can't explain it really." He chuckled, closing his eyes as he propped his head up with his elbow.

Lucifer let out a breath and rested his head on his hands which were neatly folded on the back of the chair. "Perhaps he does, perhaps he doesn't." Michael was made to protect humans. He was the Archangel of protection, of humanity, or course. He knew Michael still loved him, but sometimes he just couldn't see the others views. He only saw one way. But weren't they all like that? Too scared to accept others?

Dean sighed. The two of them really were just too blind to see it, then. Both wanted to end the war, put their differences aside and smile underneath the same sky once more. It was… heartbreaking oddly enough. He wasn't a big sympathizer, but for reasons unknown- this one tugged his heartstrings. Hell, for all he knew, maybe he actually cared. Just the tiniest bit. Or maybe he was just imagining things, as he was tired after working himself to the ground on countless cases. Yeah, the latter probably was more likely.

"You two are a pair of big baboons, I tell ya. Blind ones at that." Snorting, he cracked his knuckles.

Dean looked up at the devil, a look of sympathy adorned on his face. "You love him a ton, don't you? It's the same for him. Christ almighty, when it comes to the final showdown… I doubt that you'll be able to strike each other down. I really do."

Lucifer turned his head towards the human. Excluding the baboon comment, Dean was right, in a way. He wouldn't be able to strike Michael down, which was the only reason he had lost the initial war, so how would he do it now?

"Even if I can't do it it doesn't mean he'll cease his holy crusade. He'll do anything to see me locked up 'cause daddy wants it so. Well big news, he's gone." He was just venting now, really. Not to anyone in particular, he just needed to get it out. Had Michael changed? Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he did. A slim one, though, as Michael was as stubborn as an ox and had no real mind of his own, in an almost literal sense. Hell,Lucifer was surprised Michael didn't see that their Dad was the one who _gave_ Lucifer his free will. What Lucifer did with it, that was another story, but hey, if you're the black sheep of the family it causes some serious psychological trauma.

It was then that Dean decided that he had apparently lost the remaining bits of his sanity. "So I was right, you would be willing to put an end to this war a whole- if there was a way, that is?" He demanded, keeping his voice low- soft even, like he was comforting a child.

"Words can do much, I tell you. I do wonder, what would happen if the two of you tried to talk things through?" Covering his eyes with his palms, the hunter thought about it for a moment. Would he be able to talk some sense into Michael? Fat chance...But he could try, right? Right.

"If you want, I could help you get him down here." He offered in a lackluster manner, knowing for a certain that it would probably be a bad idea.

The devil chuckled at the idea, maybe it was worth a shot, but what would they say? What was he thinking? Dean wasn't a part of this. there was no they. He was a human and deserved no part in this other than being a vessel. But in what? If they could end it here and now there was no need for vessels. What if this was what Dad wanted, the two of them to put their differences aside and find peace again?.

He lifted his head and tilted it to one side. "Talking it out you say? Tough luck. I did tell you how stubborn he was, didn't I?" The more Lucifer thought about it, the more he longed to speak with his brother. Even if it didn't work, they'd have a nice conversation before Lucifer would die in the arms of the one he loved the most. He was being honest with himself, he would never be able to kill his brother. His gaze turned to Sam, still sleeping without a care in the world. At least him and his brother had each other, loved each other. At least his vessel could find happiness in this unforgiving world. He looked back at Dean, the idea still turning around in his head.

"Why not?" He said slowly, his voice smooth and calculating. "Get the ass down here."


End file.
